Kol Mikaelson-The Wild Original

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Rebekah's POV

I was reeling from the torrent of information that spilled from my brother's mouth. People always underestimate or fear Kol. They don't see that while he may seem like a madman with his peculiar charm, he's also cruel—especially to his own family if we dare to annoy him. I've known him since we were toddlers, and I know he never leaves a stone unturned when someone crosses him. Our mother's betrayal, along with her husband's madness, turned us into what we are today. Already broken by Henrik's death, Kol was apocalyptic when they forced this immortality upon us.

Everyone else in our family assumed he'd eventually let it go, but I knew better. From the very beginning of our immortal lives, I knew Kol would never forgive or forget. And today, he proved me right.

"And Nik, don't dagger me, you idiot," he says with a bright smile. To the untrained eye, it may seem like a jest, but I recognize that angelic smile for what it is: a promise. If Nik dares cross him again, the next time, he won't be dealing with Kol Mikaelson, the wild Original. He'll be facing Kol Mikaelson, the warlock.

Many would think there's no difference, but there is. Kol is like a storm. It's why I never understood his fascination with Loki when, as children, I thought he should admire Thor. He was so disappointed when I voiced that thought. Kol is a storm, but a concentrated one—a tempest in a bottle. On the surface, he shows off, goofs around, flirts, and beguiles women with his charm. That's the Kol most know. But when the storm is unleashed, it's glorious to watch, even in its devastation. He always warns his victims, but if they still dare to cross him, only ruin remains.

And Nik? Nik is on very thin ice if he so much as considers daggering Kol again.

"Bekah, let's go. Let the elderly have their talk. We youngsters shouldn't be cooped up at home for too long—it's been a thousand years, after all," Kol finishes wistfully.

I know him well. He's craving solitude—or perhaps my company. If I don't go with him now, I'm certain to be referred to as an "old woman" for the next century. Kol is petty like that.

"Very well," I say, rising gracefully.

I glance at my brothers and flash a smile. Nik understands instantly—he always does. He knows me and Kol better than anyone else. He practically raised us, our solace during our human lives. Nik is our favorite brother, not just mine but Kol's too, though he'd never admit it without some bitterness.

Kol grabs a rum bottle and extends his arm. I loop mine through his, and he flashes me a look. Ah, Nikola is back—mischievous and daring. I can already sense he's in the mood for something reckless.

As we step into the woods, the cool air washes over us. It feels like home.

"So, Bekah," Kol says, turning to me with his usual grin, "why don't you regale me with tales of what you've been up to in this town?"

Kol's POV

"So, you're telling me that after escaping the sword of Damocles that is our father, instead of celebrating your freedom, you voluntarily joined a jail—or whatever they call this high school—to experience being a teenager again? And, on top of that, you've been trying to become the queen of this idiotic little town's school?"

I gave her my patented I'm disappointed in you look, the one I save for truly ridiculous situations.

"If you wanted to enjoy life, Bekah, you could have gone to college. Why on earth would you willingly dive into the cesspit of hormones and melodrama known as high school? You're immortal! Such a waste of eternity."

She responded with a cold glare, her disdain practically radiating off her.

"I'll have you know it's not as easy as you make it sound," she snapped. "And I haven't become the queen. There's a blonde cheerleader in the doppelgänger's little group who unofficially runs this town for all intents and purposes."

I raised an eyebrow, my interest piqued. "Oh, and Nik left her alone? That doesn't sound like something Nik would do. A millennia-old control freak strolls into town and doesn't immediately start charming, threatening, or manipulating the people in charge? How very interesting."

Bekah crossed her arms and shot me a warning look. "Kol, you don't have to glorify a school full of teenagers. I know how insufferable they can be. But it's not the hell you make it out to be."

I leaned closer, raising my brows. "I still don't understand why you would willingly jump into that particular brand of torture, sister. It's baffling."

Her lips thinned. "You know your sister is the only competition I have now. And we're playing this game, so please, don't ruin it."

A new voice interrupted us, drawing both our attention.

'I already have. Guess who this is?'

I turned to the newcomer, a sly grin spreading across my face. "And who are you, sweetheart?"

"Caroline," she said with a smirk.

I glanced back at Bekah. "Oh, she's your competition? A baby vampire against you?" I chuckled darkly, shaking my head. "Shall we change the title then? How about 'The Original Teenager'—seems appropriate, doesn't it?"

Bekah's glare intensified, and I knew I'd crossed a line. Of course, I didn't care. I laughed again, savoring the moment, knowing she'd try to burn my things to the ground later out of sheer spite. That's why all my important grimoires are locked safely under a blood spell, with no one knowing their location except me.

Both girls turned their disdainful glares on me, and I couldn't help but grin. My, my, this was shaping up to be a very interesting night.

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